Honey, we are marooned!
by Mizz Moneypenny
Summary: What happens when a bunch of unlikely wrestlers are forced to share a hotel room together? Martial Law is inflicted and Mr. McMahon will take no prisoners! In the final chapter, what will become of D Generation X? Please R & R!
1. Chapter 1: Bunking with your buddy!

As ever, I do not own any of the characters from the WWE roster in this story. They are property of Mr Vincent Kennedy McMahon aka moron!

* * *

Peering from the filthy window of the locker room, HBK Shawn Michaels sighed. It had been a great evening, after all, himself and long time best buddy Triple H were well on their way to taking the wrestling world by storm again with the newly reformed, D Generation X.

Flicking his hair over his shoulders into a pony tail, Shawn couldn't help but notice how dark and depressing Detroit, Michigan appeared from the inside.

"The place hasn't looked like this since the day Kevin Nash was born!" Triple H chuckled, lifting his hand luggage from the bench as himself and Shawn left the arena in their rental car to head over to the hotel.

The dusky night skies and the bitter air was an unusual reality for the typically hot summers month of June. There was hardly anyone in sight, strange for early evening. Immediately, both men suspected something was wrong but dare not comment in case fate would decide to rear its ugly head.

Strolling into the hotel lobby, both men went to check into their rooms for the evening. Triple H's off screen wife, Stephanie, was not travelling with the company at the moment after experiencing some pregnancy aches and pains. Shawn, on the other hand, never brought his family on the unsafe or unhomely orientated life of the open road; they stayedin San Antonio, Texasunless it was a big event, such as Wrestlemania.

"How can I help you?" the young man at the reception desk questioned.

"Hi, I'm Shawn Michaels. I've book a room with you for the evening."

"Just let me look on my files for you." the gentleman replied, scrolling through the mountain of paper on his desk.

"Computer's not working, huh?" Triple H inquired, pointing to the monitor.

"No, electricity's down. We only have the back up generator so we have these files on paper, you know, so we don't waste any extra power." he replied, taking a brief rest from the task in hand. "No, sorry Mr Michaels, I don't seem to have your name on here."

"Are you sure?" Shawn questioned, his eyes wide.

"Sorry. Are you certain you booked it under your name?"

"Of course."

"Here, try my name, Paul Levesque."

After a few minutes of searching, there was still nothing listed under either mans name.

"Great." they both muttered in unison, the unappealing idea of travelling miles away to find a hotel or sleeping in the cramped, three door Ford car setting in.

"I do have an alternative." the young man started, looking to face both men.

"Yes?" Shawn asked.

"I do in fact have one room left which hasn't been taken, if my files are all correct."

"Go on?" Triple H appealed.

"It's a nice big room with a king size bed, a Jacuzzi, a massive shower and bath set, ummm, fridge, wide screen television, the works!"

"Are you serious?" Triple H gawped.

"Yep."

"It's only got the one bed though, right?" Shawn questioned.

"Yes but, like I said, it's King sized so it won't matter."

"We won't be able to use half the stuff in it!" HBK remembered the power shortage.

"How much?" Triple H ordered, ignoring his friends pleas.

"Since both of your rooms were deleted, I'll give you it at a special price of $500."

"We'll..."

"Talk it over!" Shawn interrupted, grabbing Triple H by the arm and dragging him nearer to the doorway.

"What?"

"It sounds a bit...lavish." Shawn sneered.

"How about I try and reduce him on price?"

"Ok."

"Well take it," Triple H smoothly stated "for $450"

"That's a deal." the desk employee smirked, thankful that he'd done some good business. "Here are your keys, I'll need one of your signatures."

After signing in, the men made their way down the dim lit corridors and up several flights of stairs, as the lifts were not working, until they got to their room number; 747.

"Ok, here we go!" Shawn murmured, unlocking the door and flinging himself inside.

As Triple H turned the light on, both men looked gob smacked at each other; the gold painted, beautiful silk decorated room was more than just honeymoon suite. It was amazing! The king size, four poster bed was draped in fancy linen; perfect for the a newly wed couple. Unfortunately, Shawn and Triple H were far from that!

"We got it at a good price!" Triple H commented.

"You can say that again!" Shawn sighed, dropping backwards onto the only bed in the room. "Ummm, Hunter?"

"Yeah?" he asked casually, spying the fridges contents, shuffling a few of the bottles of champagne about.

"Look up!"

As Triple H did so, he saw a perfect reflection of himself in the sparkling mirrors that covered the entire ceiling! His eyes wondered to see Shawn sprawled out on the bed, looking more than a little nerved.

"It looks like something out of a porn film!" Triple H joked, Shawn less than impressed.

"Can we cover them up?" Shawn moaned, jumping from the bed, searching in all of the cupboards possible.

"How do you suggest we do that!"

"I dunno, I just don't want to see myself all night!" Shawn whimpered.

"Relax!" Triple H implored, placing his hands on Shawn's muscular shoulders "No one will see us when we are asleep!"

"There could be cameras under there! That guy on the desk seemed pretty keen for us to share a bed!"

Triple H was slightly concerned at Shawn's mind set. He couldn't understand how come he was so paranoid all of a sudden.

"What's up and we're not getting in bed until you've told me!" Triple H warned.

Shawn realised it was pointless hiding it from Triple H. He'd find out anyway or annoy you so much until you told him!

"Ok, I hate power cuts. Ever since I was little, I dunno, it just bugs me. I don't like the whole mirror thing either, in case there's a storm, it will reflect in the glass."

"While I'm here Shawn, I promise, nothing bad will happen."

"You swear?"

"On Kevin Nash's quad!" he smirked, drawing his mate in for a hug.

After a while, both men had showered, separately I should add, and were about to get settled into bed. Triple H rubbed his tired face, slumping on the right side of the bed as Shawn distanced himself on the left side. He'd turned to face away from Triple H as he closed his eyes, knowing that it wouldn't take him long to go to sleep.

"Shawn?"

"Yes Hunter?"

"Does my nose look big?"

Shawn sat up to face Triple H who was lying flat on his back, moving his head from side to side, spying himself in the mirror.

"No bigger than usual." Shawn shrugged.

"Thanks!" Triple H groggily replied.

"Well you have broke it several times, you can't expect it to be teeny!"

Suddenly, as the boys continued their discussion, there came a knock at the door...

"Great, just what we need!" Triple H grumbled, plodding over to the doorway.

* * *

Next time in 'Honey, we are marooned!'

The knock at the door is an unwanted guest as far as Triple H is concerned. Plus, as the law is enforced, some are dragged helplessly away by the bosses in town.

* * *

Hey, thanks for reading the first chapter. I know it's a little bit of a slow starter but the coming chapters will be much better, I promise, as more people get introduced.

Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2: Honey, we are marooned!

"Orton!" Triple H gasped, fuming to see his former protégé stood in the doorway of _his_ hotel room "What the hell do you want!"

"Oh, glad I got the right room!" the third generation superstar replied, dragging in his luggage and smiling to Shawn.

"How dare you come in here and wake us up like this!" Hunter roared, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Ummm, Hunter, we weren't asleep!" Shawn muttered, sitting up in bed.

"Dammit Shawn, just be quiet for one minute while I find out what this little punk is doing in here!" Hunter yelled, flinging his arms into the air.

"I was just to ask the same question, only directed at the two of you!" Randy smirked, perching on his suit case, casually flicking through FHM magazine.

Hunter had had enough. He knocked the magazine aggressively out of Randy's hands before getting close to his face. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"There are no rooms left in any of the hotels in the local area. The guy at the desk said that there were two wrestlers here and I explained you were friends so he gave me the number and here I am!"

"Lets get one thing straight; we have not been friends for years, ever since you chose to turn your back on me when I needed you!"

Agitated, Orton stood. "Bullshit! You only wanted me and Batista to save your ass! We were nothing more than puppets to you who you could manipulate for his own benefit!"

Hunter paused. He couldn't lie. He knew it was the truth. Rubbing a hand over his stubble, he glanced at Orton and then again at Shawn.

HBK broke the silence "Are you serious that there are no rooms left?"

"Yep." he nodded, retaking his seat on the suit case.

"I don't have a problem with you staying here..." Shawn shrugged.

"Neither do I as long as you keep your trap shut!" Hunter warned, lying down next to Shawn again.

"This is a great room!" Randy grinned, strolling into the bathroom. "You even have a Jacuzzi!"

"We know!" Shawn and Hunter replied.

"Too bad there's a power cut on or I would go for a dip in that myself."

"Earth to simpleton!" Triple H mocked, waving his hand in front of Randy's face "You don't have rights to anything in this room; only me and Shawn do."

"Yeah but he's our guest!" HBK tried to rationalise.

"Maybe to you." Triple H sulked.

As the three men sat in silence, the phone started to ring at the side of the bed. Reluctantly rolling over, Shawn picked up the receiver. "Hello...yes, speaking...yes...ok...ten minutes?...Thank you."

"What was that all about?" Triple H curiously asked.

"I dunno, there's a meeting in ten minutes, apparently it's urgent."

"What, a WWE meeting?" Randy inquired.

"No, one for the whole hotel. I dunno, it sounds pretty bad. There was background noise and everything. Kids crying."

"Ok, lets get dressed and see what's going on." Hunter decided, pulling out a pair of jeans from his bag.

* * *

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Shawn, Randy and Triple H were sat in the underground meeting room in the hotel with the other guests. Looking nervously around, images of children being comforted by their parents were being displayed. 'Must be because it's late.' Randy thought naively.

"Shawn! Hunter! Randy!" a voice cried, waving his arms manically in the air.

"Carlito? Kurt Angle? What are you guys doing here?"

"We were looking for a hotel to stay in since our rooms here were deleted..." Kurt began.

"Ours were too!" Hunter interjected, taking a seat next to the Olympic Gold Medallist.

"We were about to leave when a Police Officer shoved us back in and told us to come down here."

"I heard something bad was happening." Carlito piped up.

Before long, an Army officer entered the room clutching a file of papers. Clearing his throat, he began to speak, reading the paper held in his hands.

"Thank you all for coming here. This is direct news. As from 10:15pm, Detroit was declared under Martial Law by one Mr Vincent Kennedy McMahon for undisclosed reasons, at this time. Under Martial Law, until given the all clear, no one can leave this building. Everyone much obey the strict rules granted. Leaflets will be handed out within the next few minutes. Food shall be on short supply, and rationed as of now. No one can eat, bath or embark in other energy or other resource activities without a permit. Anyone who does so shall be retained under Police Arrest. Any weapons or dangerous articles should be handed in immediately or the owner shall face death." he stated, glaring at the horrified faces in front of him.

"No way! Martial Law?" Hunter gasped.

"Dat...dat's no cool!" Carlito sneered, tossing an apple from his pocket, taking a bite from it...uh oh!

"You, curly top, you're under arrest!" the Army Officer pointed as to police marched over to him, grabbing his arms behind him.

"Don't take him!" Shawn pleaded "That's his gimmick...he can't help it!"

"Enough is enough. We take orders from McMahon and only from McMahon!" one of the policemen reported monotonously as he dragged poor Carlito away.

"We'll save you!" Kurt yelled after him.

"Ummm, no we won't!" Hunter spoke.

"Really?" Shawn questioned with a shocked expression on his face. "Oh yeah, we won't."

"In the mean time," the Army officer said "Go back to your hotel rooms. Collect your leaflets on the way out and we'll up date you on the situation as frequently as possible."

"Great, honey, we are marooned!" Orton chuckled, glancing over at Triple H who was less than impressed to have received a sweet nickname.

"Kurt, are you coming back to our room?" Shawn asked, turning to face him.

"Well, I wouldn't want to be a burden on you...oh alright!" he grinned, trying to make the best of the situation.

All four men made their way back to room 747. Placing his luggage down, Kurt went to inspect the decadent bathroom.

"Oh wow, you guys have a Jacuzzi!"

"We know!" the other three men yelled.

"This is useless!" Hunter shook his head "There must be something that the 'authorities' are hiding. Why would McMahon impose Martial Law on the town anyway? He doesn't have the right to!"

"When you are Mr. McMahon, anything goes." Kurt raised his eyebrows, as he took a cheeky look in the fridge.

"I dunno, something seems awfully suspicious." Shawn spoke.

"What about calling someone?" Randy suggested.

"Nah, they've probably cut the phone lines off." Hunter snarled, lifting the receiver to his ear. "Yep, dead as a dodo!"

"What about mobiles?" HBK suggested "Perhaps Stephanie knows what's going on."

"Hang on..." Triple H delved in his pockets to find his phone. "Nah, there's no signal."

"Fuck!" Orton mumbled.

"Guys, is anyone...scared?" Kurt cowered.

"No, no of course not!" Shawn, Triple H and Randy all muttered incoherently.

"I miss my fiancé!" Randy sobbed.

"I miss my wife and children!" Shawn agreed.

"I miss my wife and foetus!" Triple H slumped.

"Guys, we have to make the best of this we can't just sit here moping about. We have to make this fun!" Kurt implored.

"How do you suggest we do that?" Triple H looked up.

"I dunno...ummm, lets play a game!"

"No way! It's midnight. I nearly killed myself out there tonight against the Spirit Squad and their inability to wrestle. I want bed!" Triple H said, rolling the covers back.

"Yeah, I agree. If anything happens, they'll let us know."Shawn decided.

"Ok. We need to think about how to rescue Carlito!" Kurt remembered.

"Let me sleep on it!" Shawn mumbled, well on his way to dream land.

* * *

Coming up in 'Honey, we are marooned!'...

More wrestlers arrive to stay in room 747 but how did they get in the building? Vince McMahon releases details on the Martial Laws plus when Carlito gets a cell buddy, can they combine their knowledge to be set free?

Check back for more soon!


	3. Chapter 3: No chance in hell!

As the sunshine gleamed through the silk curtains of room 747, only Shawn was left sleeping. Kurt was talking to Randy as Hunter showered.

"This is a weird situation!" Randy semi-laughed.

"Four wrestlers locked in one room. Yeah, most women's fantasy!"

Before either man could say anymore, the phone started to bleep. Awoken by the noise, HBK reached over to answer the call.

"Hello? Ok, again...sure will. Half an hour? Great, bye."

"Morning Shawn." Kurt greeted.

"What was that all about?" The Game asked, peering from around the door.

"We are needed back in the meeting room in half an hour. At ten thirty there's gonna be a news report given by Vince."

"By Vince?" Randy puzzled.

"Apparently so!" Shawn stretched.

"Sounds like we could be here a while!" Triple H glanced up from drying his blonde locks.

As they made their ways down the corridors, it was suspiciously quiet; everyone was whispering, making all four men feel uneasy. Once again entering the meeting room, Army officers stood next to a wide screen television, their arms folded. Their expressions were hostile yet alert as they examined everyone suspiciously who was in the room.

At 10.30 exactly, one of the men switched the television on before re-folding his arms. An image of Vince McMahon's face filled the screen.

"Hello. I'm Vincent Kennedy McMahon, Chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment and soon to be the world. As you know, now, the whole country is under Martial Law. For any hope of it breaking free from this, you _must_ obey everything that I say. You must _not_ obey the rules of D Generation X! Shawn Michaels, Triple H and anyone else who dare join their crusade in order to embarrass or destroy me, it isn't going to work. You two are the reason for me doing this. That and, well, everyone who isn't an employee of mine must do as I say, dammit! Meet your new leaders, the nWo!"

With that, the camera zoomed out of Vince's face and onto the three men stood behind him; Scott Hall, Kevin Nash and Hulk Hogan. Dressed from head to toe in their nWo gear, all three men smirked, tearing their gloves over their fingers.

"What?" Shawn muttered, turning to face Triple H "Has he lost his faculties completely?"

"That happened ages ago!" he mumbled in response, the whole hotel turning to face the two men.

"And, DX, I know exactly where you are. It's only a matter of time. You've got no chance in hell." Vince beamed evilly, leering over the desk.

"Lets get back to the room!" Shawn exclaimed.

"No one can leave the building. You are trapped!" the ripped Army officer stated, removing his glasses to reveal a stone cold look in his eyes.

Running a hand through his hair, Shawn was becoming increasingly more worried. Was Vince having a laugh? What _was_ going on? Was the whole country really under Martial Law? And, more importantly, were his family alright?

Once back in the security of their hotel room, all four men pondered their options.

"Is he for real?" Randy gawped.

"Nah, I've seen that look in Vince's eyes before. You guys are in trouble!" Kurt warned.

"The storyline, it's dominating his life!" Shawn gasped, sitting carefully on the bed, rubbing his temples.

"We have to try and get you out of here." Kurt decided.

"Well, Shawn, Hunter, it's been great knowing you!" Randy smiled edgily, heading over to the door way, picking up his luggage.

"Oh no, you aren't leaving us!" Hunter stated, dragging the Legend Killer back by his collar.

"We are just that; trapped like bees in a jar." Shawn shook his head in utter shock.

"We'll get you guys out of here. Won't we Randy?" Kurt sternly questioned.

"We will...oh yeah, ha, we will!"

A few moments of silence later, a knock came at the door.

"Oh my God, that's Vince!" Shawn spluttered, breathing heavily.

"Calm! Randy, listen to me carefully, go to the door and ask who it is. If it's Vince, you tell him that we are not here. Wait till we get in the bathroom!" Hunter stated rationally, leading HBK into the other section of their room.

Randy opened the door, only to find someone that he wasn't anticipating. "Hello...Mick Foley?"

"And Mr Socko!" he giggled, pulling the dirty sock from his pants.

"Oh great, it's you!" Triple H sarcastically said.

"Hey, it's better than it being Vinney Mac!" Foley smirked. "What's in there?" he redirected his attentions, entering the bathroom. "Wow, you have a Jacuzzi!"

"We know!" the other four men rolled their eyes.

"Neat room. Mind if I stay in here a while?"

"As long as you help us think of a way to get out then yes." Shawn nodded cautiously, returning to his seat on the end of the bed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Carlito was sat all alone in his cell. He was starving an in desperate need of his 5 a day apple regime! Tapping his knees together, he looked to the ceiling for inspiration. 'There must be a way out of here!' he mused to himself.

Suddenly, the giant iron door flung open. The surly looking office guard stumbled into the room. "Here you go, a friend of you!" he slurred, obviously under the influence of alcohol.

"Carlito?" the gruff voice quizzed.

"Undertaker! What are you doing here?" he stood, at least a little glad to see a familiar face.

"I tombstoned one of the army officers for not letting me out of the town! You?"

"Eating an apple. Hey, why are you on the death sentence, you are the dead man, you can't be killed?" Carlito wondered, slumping against the wall, closely followed by the Undertaker.

"Huh, what the don't know won't kill them!" Taker grinned.

* * *

In hotel room 747, the remaining five men were getting bored with trying to figure out a way of getting Shawn and Triple H out of harms way.

"I bet Mr Socko has an idea, don't you boy?" Mick Foley grinned, holding the puppet to his ear.

"Cram it!" Hunter sternly spoke.

"Let's play a game!" Foley continued, not in the slightest bit intimidated by the King of Kings threat. "Let's play I spy!"

"Ok, I'll go first." Orton decided. "I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'L'."

"Lamp?" Kurt shrugged.

"Nope."

"Light bulb?" Shawn guessed.

"Nope."

"I give up." Shawn sighed.

"Loser!" Randy sniggered, pointing at Mick Foley.

"Ha, I _almost_ remember why I liked you in the first place, Orton!" Triple H chuckled.

"Really?"

"I did say almost!"

However, another knock came at the door. Randy did the same as he had done before with Shawn and Triple H disappearing into the bathroom.

"It's ok, the powers completely out, they've just delivered candles and a lighter." Randy told his room mates.

"This is ridiculous!" Shawn commented "We can't keep disappearing into the bathroom every time there's a knock at the door."

"I agree. We need to think of something." Triple H nodded, rubbing his growing facial hair.

But before they could even debate any new plans, the door was torn open and a muscular figure bounded into the room...

* * *

Next time in 'Honey, we are marooned!'...

Are Shawn and Triple H free? Who was the face at the door? Are Carlito and the Undertaker able to co-exist?

Check back for more, soon!


	4. Chapter 4: An unlikely ally of McMahon's

"That was not my fault!"

"Batista? What are you doing here?" Randy questioned, clutching his suitcase as if he was about to clobber the intruder with it.

"I dunno, I was just looking for a hotel and hey, here's one!" the former World Heavyweight Champion replied.

"Wait a minute...how did you get past security?" Triple H glared.

"I dunno, it was pretty easy - I just walked in!"

"You know what this means, right?" Shawn asked, standing.

"That Batista is really light on his feet?" Kurt joked.

"No! That we can get out of here! C'mon Hunter, let's go!" Shawn hurried.

"It's ok Batista being able to get in, but it's another story you two being able to get out." Randy stated.

"How d'ya mean?" Hunter responded.

"Randy's right, after all, Vince will have told all of the police and army to keep on red alert for you two!" Kurt agreed.

"You'll never make it out of here." Mick Foley replied grimly.

"If we don't try, we'll never know; c'mon Hunter!"

"Hang on Shawn. If we are gonna do that, we should do it at the dead of night, not while it's still vaguely light."

"Good point." The heartbreak kid nodded.

"Besides, if we make it out of the hotel, it doesn't mean we can make it out of Detroit or the whole country." Hunter muttered.

"We need to find out where McMahon is stationed." Shawn sighed.

"I heard that he was in Detroit's town hall. That might just be a rumour though." Mick told.

'A little bit suspicious...' Kurt mused 'How would Foley, of all people, know that?' However, he kept his cynical thoughts inside his head...for now.

* * *

Meanwhile, Carlito and Undertaker were about to settle down for the night.

"Night boys, here's a blanket in case you get cold!" the drunk prison officer mocked, slinging the thin, worn rag to Carlito.

"Bastard." Undertaker murmured.

"Wow, one blanket between two of us." Carlito gasped sarcastically.

"I'm not sharing with you! Your afro will get up my nose!"

"If it comes to that, I don't wanna be sharing with a corpse! I take dibs on the blanket!"

"What gives you the rights to it?" Taker clenched his fists.

"The guard threw it to me! What are you, blind?"

With that, Carlito was grabbed by the neck and given a chock slam to hell! Undertaker rolled his eyes as he wrapped the blanket around only half of his muscular body. "Rest...in...peace!" he teased, glancing over at the unconscious Carlito.

* * *

Back in room 747, Shawn and Triple H are about ready to make their escape. They had changed their clothes and tried to disguise themselves as best as possible.

"What time is it Shawn?" Hunter questioned.

"Ten minutes to two."

"I think now's the time. Orton, if anyone asks, you are in charge, got it? Here are the keys!" Hunter told, tossing the room keys into the hands of the 26 year old.

"Thanks." he nodded cautiously.

"We're gonna get to the bottom of this if it's the last thing we do!" Shawn spoke, finding a new lease of confidence.

'It may well be...' Foley pondered.

"Guys; good luck." Kurt sincerely spoke, as the men waved goodbye and lurked into the distance.

Waiting until they closed the doors, Foley began to speak. "They'll need all of the luck they can get!" Shuffling in his pocket, Randy, Kurt and Batista shot each other a concerned expression.

"What do you mean by that?" Kurt asked, watching Mick drag a walkie talkie from his pocket. "Oh my God..."

"Mr. McMahon? Yeah, this is Foley, the traitors have just left the room...Who's with me? Let's just say, three very unlikely allies of D Generation X!..OK...talk later...bye!"

"You bastard!" Batista seethed.

"How the fuck could you do that?" Orton raged.

"Easily...Vince is paying me a hefty sum for doing his dirty work." Foley smirked.

"It's true what I said on Raw a few weeks ago!" Kurt gasped. "You really _are_ Mrs Foley's fat, hairy prostitute!"

"Come, come now Kurt that was a little...low, don't you think?"

"No way!"

"You know, you might not like what I've done but you'll all hate me just that little bit more later!"

"How come?" Kurt quizzed.

"Mr. McMahon has requested that I report back to him who the three men are in this room. Now, I don't want to do it..."

"Of course not!" Randy sneered sarcastically.

"_But_, if I feel the need to, well, it's gonna happen! It's not too late for you to join us, if you want to. I'll let you mull it over while I'm in the bathroom." Mick scoffed.

"Twat!" Randy scorned.

"We are all sticking together...right?" Kurt asked, staring at the other two men.

"Of course." they both nodded in unison.

"Great, well, I have a plan..." Kurt began to whisper as the three men huddled together.

* * *

Elsewhere, Shawn and Triple H were creeping down the deserted corridors of the hotel, not speaking loudly for fear of being heard by the enemy.

"C'mon, there's the fire exit...there won't be anyone guarding that, right? There's no electrical equipment to set alight!" Shawn suggested.

"Dammit, it's locked!" Hunter scratched his head.

"I have an idea...if we set of the fire alarms, everyone will have to come out of the hotel, right? So, if we do that, the guards will be too preoccupied with that, we could escape easily!"

"Good. Let's do it!" Hunter agreed, as the alarms started to blare over the tanoy system.

* * *

"Huh?" Randy shot his head up. He had just gotten off to sleep.

"C'mon, it's a fire alarm." Batista spoke, dragging his former team mate to his feet.

"Great!" Foley scowled "You three stick with men, you understand?"

The three men followed Foley down to the vast gardens of the hotel. The chills of the night sky shooting down their spines. 'I sure hope Shawn and Triple H are ok!' Kurt thought to himself.

"Thank God!" Shawn mumbled as himself and Triple H scampered into the darkness.

"We aren't out of the woods yet." Triple H advised.

"I know. Was it me or was Foley acting...weird?"

"No different to normal!" Triple H chuckled. "What? The guy plays with a sock puppet that he keeps in his pants!"

"He was hiding something. How come he would know where McMahon was stationed, huh?"

"I seemed a little suspicious, I have to admit."

* * *

Back at the hotel, everyone was now allowed back in after the false alarm.

"You three, looks like you've all got to share that bed for tonight!" Mick stated, pointing at the king size bed. He saw unease plastered across the men's faces. "Unless you _want _me to tell Mr. McMahon of your where abouts?"

"No, no, of course not!" the other three mumbled incoherently.

"Who should go in the middle?" Randy questioned.

"You!" Batista demanded.

"Why me?"

"Coz you are the weediest!" Kurt spoke, shoving him under the covers.

"You won't get up till I say so in the morning, you understand? Now, if you excuse me, I'm going for a quick shower. Oh and, by the way, I'll expect an answer as to whether you three are with or against Mr. McMahon in the morning, got it?" Foley ordered. The other three men waited until he was locked inside the bathroom and the water running fast until speaking.

"Why do we have to listen to that over weight dork?" Randy quizzed.

"It's all apart of our plan, don't worry!" Kurt encouraged.

"Strange that he wanted us all in the same bed though!" Batista muttered.

"Yeah. He's more like a pimp than a prostitute!" Kurt laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

But for just how long would he be laughing for?

* * *

Next time on 'Honey, we are marooned!'...

Does Kurt's plan work? What happens to HBK and the Game? Will Carlito and Undertaker come to a mutual understanding?

Check back for more, soon!

* * *

I would just like to say thank you to everyone who is reviewing this. It's great to know that you are enjoying it so much! The next update should come either Saturday or Sunday. 


	5. Chapter 5: The great escape!

The next morning, Mick Foley woke Randy, Kurt and Batista up at the butt crack of dawn. He had kept the three men unusually quiet through out the morning. However, he may have just blown Mr. McMahon's plans...

_Flashback: Last night._

_Mick had just finished bathing. He was nice and clean and his usually crimped hair was dead straight. Strolling back into the bedroom, he was very quiet so that he wouldn't wake the others. Taking his walkie talkie from his pocket, he checked to make sure the others were fast asleep. Yet, what he didn't know was, Kurt was just pretending to be asleep; his eyes and ears were still fully alert._

_"Hello, Mr. McMahon? Yep, this is Foley...yeah, they're all fast asleep in la la land...the plan for tomorrow? Oh yeah, it's gonna work brilliantly. I'm sure they will come around to our way of thinking!...DX? Yeah, they must have been gone for like 5 hours now. They were heading to find you...the has-been kid said that they'd get to the bottom of this if it's the last thing they ever do...yes, I'm sure it will be too! Ok, see you tomorrow. Bye!"_

_End of Flashback._

Kurt knew that Foley didn't fully have his wits about him...not that he ever did of course but he knew that, while Mick wasn't the sharpest knife in the draw, it was still pretty careless of him to say that in front of them. Kurt, Randy and Batista were all sat next to each other on the bed when Foley made an announcement.

"Man, I'm starving. I'm gonna go and get some food. Anyone else want any? Good, ok, see you fools in a minute!" he chuckled, exiting the room, locking the door behind him.

"I can't take this anymore!" Randy groaned, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Come on, we'll get through this, you'll see." Kurt promised, rubbing Randy's back.

"Kurt, are you sure this plans gonna work?" Batista spoke.

"Of course, trust me even if it's just for this one time, ok? We have to get out of here and find Hunter and Shawn."

"Why?" Batista asked.

"Well, you two must have been asleep at the time but Foley was talking to Vince last night and said that finding Vince will be the last thing DX will ever do!"

"Wow." Randy gasped.

"Sounds bad." Batista muttered.

"We have to go through with the plan...for their sake!" Kurt confirmed, the others nodding in agreeance.

* * *

Meanwhile, Carlito was rousing from his choke slam. He banged the back of his head hard on the concrete floor, knocking him out for the majority of the night...not even his beloved afro could save him!

"Morning sideshow Bob!" Taker snorted. He was propped against the wall, the blanket wrapped around his midriff.

"Hey!" Carlito murmured, clutching the back of his head. "What time is it?"

"Time you got a watch!" Taker teased.

"Ha ha, very funny, I'm serious."

"I dunno, what do you think I am, the talking clock?"

"I wish you were!" Carlito massaged his temples. "Man, I'm starving!"

"They're meant to be bringing us food in the next hour." Taker told.

"I hope that includes a shower!" Carlito said "Your starting to decompose!"

"Me! How dare you!" Taker snarled "Care for another choke slam..."

"No, no, dat would not be cool!" Carlito semi-laughed.

Thankfully for Mr. Caribbean, the prison officer from the night before entered their cell; looking a little worse for wear!

"Ok...here's your breakfast...I'll come back in a few minutes to collect everything..." he trailed off, his eyes red and bloodshot.

Tucking into their breakfast, both men were in desperate need of a meal. Even though it _did_ taste like crap, they shovelled the food in their gobs as if there was no tomorrow!

However, before long, Carlito made a discovery...

"Taker, look!" he pointed "The doors open!"

"So it is...are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"You're probably thinking about draining the blood from a bat or something, so, no!"

"No, moron, we could escape!" Taker tutted.

"We could never make it out of here. There are guards all over the place."

"Maybe...unless..."

"What?"

"You'll see. Come on, we haven't got time to lose!" Taker hasted.

But what are the dead man's intentions?

* * *

Elsewhere, Shawn and Triple H had kept their heads low for the majority of last night and intended to do so for the majority of that day. Their plan was to creep into the McMahon offices at the dead of night and to take over office!

Currently, the best buddies were sat in a darkened train shelter. From time to time, guards influenced by McMahonism and the nWo would wonder past, other wise, they sat there quietly, not moving a muscle until they had gone.

"What are we meant to do for the whole day?" Shawn sighed.

"I dunno...remember what we used to do, back in the good ol' days?"

"What's that?"

"You know, you and me, before wives, foetus', children..."

"Oh that! Nah, God isn't too fond of that sort of behaviour!"

"But I'm the King and I am..." Triple H pouted.

"Maybe later!" Shawn winked. "When we've completed our mission!"

* * *

Back in room 747, Foley had since returned from his breakfast. Looking rather smug with himself, he took the walkie talkie from his back pocket and casually tossed in into the air a couple of times.

"Well, I know I don't really need to ask but, tell me, are you joining the noble nWo or are you selling out to the detestable D Generation X?"

"You're right. You didn't really need to ask." Kurt began, exhaling deeply. "We'll side with you and Mr. McMahon."

"Perfect!" Foley smirked, turning to face away from the three new nWo members before speaking to Mr. McMahon.

Kurt nodded to Batista who picked up the room's desk chair and smacked Foley on the back of the head with it before Randy delivered a picture perfect RKO to the 'Hardcore Legend', knocking him out cold.

"And if ya not down with that, we've got two words for ya!" the three men chuckled "SUCK IT!" they cried, crotch chopping their way out of the door.

"Quick, peg it!" Kurt implored, dashing out of the room with his fellow men. "Let's go and find Shawn and Triple H!"

"Kurt, man, we need to get weapons for the security guards." Batista warned.

"Good point, ummm, pick up whatever you can in the corridors, like fire extinguishers, anything."

"We aren't going down without a fight!" Batista murmured aggressively.

But would the three new friends make it out alive?

* * *

Next time on 'Honey, we are marooned!'...

Does the Undertaker's wacky idea manage to get himself and Carlito out of harms way? How do Kurt, Randy and Batista fair against 'security'? Are Shawn and Triple H able to take over?

Check back for more, soon!


	6. Chapter 6: More than meets the eye!

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Carlito wriggled against the Undertakers firm body.

"Of course I am! And stop moving, your afros making me ticklish!"

Ok, before anyone gets any strange ideas, and I wouldn't blame you for having them, the Undertakers master plan was simple; he and Carlito would escape by Mr. Cool hiding under his long, black trench coat! And, if any guards or anybody came into eye contact with them, Taker would simply lift Carlito up before waddling off with him in his arms! So far, thankfully, it hadn't come to that but Carlito started to have reservations...

"This is ridiculous!" he gasped for air "We won't make it out of here like this!"

"Shhh you might blow our cover!"

"Cover? What cover! I'm walking around with someone who wears more make up then the whole of Kiss put together!"

"Shut it!" Taker sternly spoke, thumping Carlito on the head "We just need a disguise..."

"Gee you don't say!" Carlito sarcastically muttered.

"I think I've got it..." Taker murmured, carrying Carlito over to a room where the door was jarred open.

"Put me down!" Carlito shuffled, quite noisily I might add.

"Be quiet!" Taker told, obeying Carlito's wishes.

Surely enough, they got to the office of the Police. Peering over the wooden door frames, they spied two males asleep on the job! Tip toeing into the room upon Takers lead, they entered.

Taker motioned for Carlito to take some of the clothing's off the officers.

"They'll wake up you fool!" Carlito whispered.

"Not with this they won't!" Taker smirked, gently taking a bottle of chloroform out of his pocket!

"Dat...dat's cool!" Carlito encouraged, both men casually taking clothes from the doped up, sleeping bodies.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kurt, Randy and Batista were out of harms way. Wiping the blood off their hands, they had managed to escape the evil clutches of the officers - quite easily I should add. But there was still one question that remained; where were Shawn and Triple H! 

"They can't be that far away." Batista decided.

"How about we ask them people over there?" Randy pointed naively at the two men sat side by side.

"Wake up Orton! They could be with the nWo!" Kurt warned, pressing his finger against his bald head.

"Who...us?" A familiar voice spoke.

"Road Dogg...Billy Gunn? What are you guys doing here? How did you get into the city?" Randy asked.

"We have our ways!" Road Dogg smiled. "Say, ummm, have you guys seen Shawn and Triple H?"

"No but we are looking for them." Batista spoke.

"Ok, well, if you find them, tell them we are looking for them." Billy Gunn implored.

"Tell them the same from us." Kurt nodded as the three current WWE wrestlers strolled away from the New Age Outlaws.

* * *

Else where, Shawn and Triple H were on the verge of breaking into the town hall. Suddenly, there was a commotion behind a couple of trash cans... 

"Uh, oh, yeah baby, hit me harder!" a semi-feminine voice urged.

"What the hell's that?" Triple H gazed around.

"It...it's coming from behind those cans over there!" Shawn replied.

"Maybe we ought to check it out!" Triple H decided.

Both men crept over to the bins, shocked at what they discovered...

"Ow, man, I'm blind!" Shawn shouted, clasping his hand over his eyes.

"Oh fucking hell!" Triple H sneered.

"No it wasn't! It was good until you interrupted!" The more feminine of the two replied.

"X-Pac? How can you say that? I've shagged her before..."

"HEY!" Chyna yelled, rearranging her bra and panties before pulling her top on.

"I don't know whether it's a good idea to ask what you were doing down there..." Shawn finally quizzed.

"Ok, I'll admit it," X-Pac sighed "We were making another porn film; 'Another night in Chyna'!"

"What? Why? I thought you guys hated each other?" Triple H rambled.

"What else do you expect us to do, huh? We are stuck in Detroit, bored out of our minds because of Martial Law, so the only ok thing to do would be this." Chyna replied.

"You must have been bored!" Hunter gasped, turning to face former Clique member, X-Pac.

"How's the 'Billion Dollar Princess'?" Chyna mockingly questioned.

"Fine." Triple H nodded confidently.

"You could have been in this movie other than him!" Chyna raised an eyebrow.

"Got a lucky escape, huh weed?" Triple H chuckled, tapping X-Pac's arm lightly.

"Weed? Where!" Chyna exclaimed.

"Ok..." Shawn turned away in horror.

"What are you two doing here anyway? Haven't you heard that if McMahon finds you, you'll be dead meat?" X-Pac asked, turning off his beloved camera.

"Yeah, we have, but the tables will be turned in a few hours, just you wait and see..." Triple H promised, Shawn confidently agreeing.

* * *

Carlito and Undertaker's quest was going surprisingly well, well, for the most part... 

"Man, these trousers are way too short!" Taker complained, trying desperately to pull the crotch down; at least 5 inches of his legs were showing!

"At least you didn't have to wear trousers from some one the size of Don Vito!" Carlito spoke.

Suddenly, they found themselves caught in a conversation held between more police guards.

"That Triple H and Shawn Michaels don't stand a chance." One of them cackled.

"McMahon's gonna have a field day when he finds them. He's promising a fate worse than death..."

"What, they'd have to go and work on the ECW show?"

"No, that they'd get kicked out of the world of wrestling...for good!"

"Yeah, then they'd go to TNA."

"Like I said, they'd get kicked out of the world of wrestling for good." the other stated, brain washed by McMahonism.

"That's terrible!" Carlito gasped.

"What d'ya mean? They wouldn't have to job to anyone!" Taker smiled.

"Shhh, they're gonna say something else!" Carlito warned.

"Just think how Stephanie and Shawn's wife, Rebecca, are gonna feel when they realise those clones they've been seducing in their house haven't been the real thing!" one giggled, tossing back a shot of Vodka.

"Mind you, them robots would come in handy after them two are gone. Think about it; HBK wouldn't get any more knee injuries and Triple H, well, we could programme him so that we don't have to listen to his 20 minute, weekly promos!"

"Maybe it does have it's advantages." Carlito shrugged.

"Once the New Age Outlaws have caught them, all will be right with the world!" one gleamed.

"C'mon, we haven't got a moment to lose!" Undertaker ordered, hearing enough of the conversation and deciding to take drastic action.

But what would D Generation X's fate be?

* * *

Next time in 'Honey, we are marooned!' 

Will it be the end of the line for Shawn and Triple H? Will Kurt, Randy and Batista be able to save the day? Plus, will the Undertaker and Carlito be able to get there in time?

Check back for more, soon!

* * *

Ok, the next chapter could well be the final one, just to let you know. I dunno yet though! 


	7. Chapter 7: The final showdown! DX vs nWo

"I don't get it! How come we haven't spotted them yet?" the blond asked his partner in crime.

"Billy, Billy boy, relax! If we wait here long enough, they are bound to show up!" Road Dogg confidently spoke, laying a hand on his friends shoulder.

"I hope so. We've been doing this shit for four days now! I'm bored!"

"Oh please! Just think; Mr McMahon said that once this was all sorted out, we'd be in for a hefty reward!" Road Dogg cackled, leaning against the wall.

Suddenly, the two men they were waiting for came strolling quietly along, minding their own business. Yet, they weren't alone...

"X-Pac? Chyna?" Billy whispered "I thought it was just Shawn and Trips!"

"So did I...hey, buds, long time no see!" Double J semi laughed.

"Oh yeah, how's it going?" Shawn asked.

"Good, good. Hey, what the hell are you doing around here? If Vince sees you, you're dead!"

"Not that it's got anything to do with you but...I'm not gonna tell you!" Triple H smirked "I don't trust you!"

"What makes you think that?" Road Dogg inquired, standing his ground against the King of Kings.

"Oh, nothing much, just a little dirt sheet I read on the internet. Nothing much." The Game shrugged.

"C'mon, let's show him our bazooka!" Chyna yelled in euphoria, a crazed look present in her eyes.

"Chyna, remember, Shawn doesn't strip any more, he's a Born Again..." X-Pac reminded the person he often hated to love and loved to hate.

"I meant this!" Chyna tutted, taking a needle full of steroids from her trousers "Oh, no, ha ha, wait, I meant...this!" she gleamed, pulling the big gun from her pants.

"Oh, I wonder what was getting in my way earlier!" X-Pac gasped.

"There's no time to lose!" Shawn ordered, pointing to the door way.

"Wait!" Billy stopped them hastily "Why don't you, ummm, go in the back door? I've heard that it's easier to get to Vince that way." he indecisively nodded.

"Ok." Shawn shrugged carelessly.

"Great!" Road Dogg replied, grinning to his team mate, turning to lead the four D Generation X members to Vinney Mac.

Suddenly, Chyna low blowed the New Age Outlaws, both men falling to the ground in agony. Triple H delivered a Pedigree to Billy while Road Dogg received a little Sweet Chin music at the hands of HBK!

"Come men...and women, X-Pac, let's give Vince a taste of his own medicine!" Triple H declared, marching to the doors of the town hall.

* * *

At the same time, Kurt, Randy and Batista were still looking for the duo. Suddenly, they thought their days were numbered... 

"Look! Two guards!" Orton gasped.

"Where the hell did Vince get their outfits from?" Kurt cried.

"He he, look at that 7 foot jackass! His trousers are way too short for him!" Batista chuckled.

"Oh, and what about that goon!" Randy pointed immaturely at the thin guard who's trousers kept slipping from his waist.

"Stop!" the tall guard spoke, his gruff voice sending chills down the other men's spines.

"Who do you think you are talking to?" Kurt sneered, taking a mouth piece from his trouser pocket, getting ready for action.

"I dunno, a jacked up bald guy, a weedy ass punk and a steroid junkie!" the other replied.

"Hey! Who are you calling a jacked up bald guy!"

"Or a weedy ass punk?"

"Or a...what did you call me again?" Batista confusedly questioned.

"Don't you recognise us..." Taker questioned.

"Dat...dat's no cool!"

"Carlito? Taker! How'd you escape from jail? How'd you get in jail?" Kurt asked hastily.

"There's no time for that!" Taker ordered "We need to find Shawn and Triple H!"

"Why? What's up?" Randy quizzed.

"There's no time to explain, we just need to find DX...and fast!" Carlito urged, the five men bounding off.

* * *

Back at the town hall, Shawn, Triple H, X-Pac and Chyna were fully kitted out in their Army DX outfits. Holding the gun firmly in her hands, Chyna's biceps were ready to leap the gun into action. 

"We look silly." Shawn sighed.

"No we don't, we look like we mean business." Chyna disagreed.

"Yeah but your kind of business might be different to the one Shawn's thinking of!" the Game mocked.

"Now, if I were Vince McMahon, where would my offices be?" X-Pac mused aloud.

"Right here, behind the door that says 'Mr. McMahon's Office'!" Triple H rolled his eyes.

"Oh right!" X-Pac blushed.

"That's it? No rabid guards, no blood thirsty cops?" Shawn inquired rhetorically, a hint of disappointment evident in his voice.

"Doesn't seem that way!" Triple H said "On my count, we will charge in there and show them our big guns! 3 - 2 -1..."

Suddenly, the door swung shut firmly behind the four D Generation X members. Still holding their massive guns, especially Chyna, they surveyed their surroundings. Vince had certainly made the office look nice, draped in pictures of his finest moments, including his beloved 'Muscle and Fitness Magazine' cover and the moment when he and son Shane resorted to HBK joining the 'Kiss My Ass' club.

"You're right Shawn; the story line _is_ dominating his life!" Triple H gasped.

"This has got to stop!" Shawn uncomfortably spoke.

Before anyone could reply, a familiar 'Hardcore' voice spoke.

"Arr, DX, we meet again." he softly cackled.

"Foley?" Shawn and Triple H whispered in unison.

"Congratulations on getting this far. However, I think you'll agree that your 'journey' is about to come to an end!"

"Never!" the King of Kings confidentially stated.

"I think you'll find that it is the end of the line for the two of you! You see, leaving that stupid boy Orton in charge back at the hotel was possibly the poorest decision you've ever made."

"Oh yeah, how come?" Shawn asked.

"Let's put it this way, shall we? The three morons decided that it would be a great idea to mess with the powers that be and decided to attack me from behind before telling me to, ummm, suck it." Foley recalled. "This was right after they had agreed to join the nWo."

"What has their decision got to do with us?" Shawn looked on in amazement.

"It means, 'HBK', that there will soon be a Degenerate uprising. And we can't have that, can we?"

"Oh yeah, and what are you gonna do to stop us?" Triple H smirked.

"_I'm_ not going to do anything." Foley told "We will stop you!" he finalised, as the previously defeated Billy Gunn and Road Dogg entered, dozily dragging their bodies.

"Ha, nice try Foley, we already beat the crap out of them." Triple H grinned.

"You have?" Foley asked, shocked. "Oh, right, well, ha ha, I guess we can't stop you then. Vince is right through that door..." he gestured.

"No way." Shawn shook his head "How do you expect us to trust you?"

"I don't...unless..."

"What?" X-Pac quizzed.

"You give me a pot of money. Then I will be completely honest!" Foley gleamed.

"Ok. Chyna pay the man..." Triple H urged.

"Hey, it's the other way around! Men are meant to pay _me_!"

"X-Pac, pay Foley." Triple H spoke again.

Looking at Shawn, X-Pac was hoping that someone would at least be a little sympathetic towards him. Groaning, he took the money from his pocket. Offering the money from the palm of his hand to Mick, he shook his head.

"I said a pot of money, not a handful!"

With that, Shawn stole a plant pot from the other side of the room. Tossing it over to Triple H, he removed the plant before putting the money in the blue and gold rimmed pot.

"Much better!" Foley smiled. "Ok, Mr. McMahon and the nWo are behind that door. Have a nice day!"

"Hey! What about us?" Billy and Road Dogg angered.

"Fine!" Foley rolled his eyes, giving them each a dime for their troubles as Shawn, Triple H, X-Pac and Chyna went to the great beyond...

"Do you think we should knock first?" X-Pac quizzed.

"Shut it." Triple H sneered, kicking the door down.

"By God!" a orange tinted, muscle bound idiot yelled "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"To get to the bottom of this crap." Triple H walked with a purpose "Martial Law? I expected better of you!"

"Much, much better!" Shawn agreed.

"And the nWo? Please, they are just a load of pussys!" Triple H sniggered.

"How else was I meant to defeat you, D Generation X, the most powerful faction in history, dammit!" Vince argued.

"Stop bull shitting." Triple H muttered "I know your still pissed that I knocked your daughter up and that I'd be the one to inherit your billions but please, going this far? It's so, so..."

"Utterly Vince?" Shawn intervened.

"Well, yeah, actually!" Triple H agreed.

"You idiots don't understand do ya, huh? DX is bigger than life, hell it's bigger than my penis!"

"Most things are!" Shawn mumbled.

"Except for his love for cocks...that's huge!" Triple H laughed.

"Shut up!" Vince roared in exasperation. "I've got better things to do with my time then talk to a bunch of degenerates!"

"Make us." Chyna snarled.

"You wanna fight, huh? By God, I'll give you a fight like you've never had before! Be prepared to meet...the nWo!" Vince bellowed as the three members of the faction strode out into Vince's office. "Be prepared to meet your makers!"

"What? Nash, Hall and Hogan? Get real!" Triple H cockily chuckled.

Here it was a moment much anticipated in WWE history; D Generation X vs the nWo! However, things didn't quite go to plan...

"Shawny? Hunty?" Kevin Nash sobbed, seeing the former Clique members. "Oh yeah, and X-Pac!"

"Well, well, you're working for Satan himself!" Shawn commented.

"What the fuck are you doing, dammit!" Vince hollered "You are meant to be beating the Holy Hell out of them!"

"How can you say that?" everyone's favourite quad ripper, Kevin, replied "Shawn's the love of my life...I can't do it!"

"What about you, Hall?"

"Hey, where's the fifty barrels of grease you promised me? I don't wanna beat these dudes up if I'm not greased like an oil spillage!"

"Hogan?" Vince exhaled deeply.

"You haven't paid me Brother, I'm not jobbing unless I'm getting paid a ridiculous amount to do it BROTHER!" the Huckster, I mean, Hulkster yelled, as he posed. "Whatcha' gonna do Vince, when the nWo won't do anything for you!"

"By God, you three call your selves men? Dammit!" Vince moaned.

"Looks like you've got no choice..." Shawn folded his arms.

"Looks like DX are taking over!" Triple H beamed, high fiveing Shawn as Kevin delivered a deadly - for all the wrong reasons - Jack knife to the boss! As Vinney Mac lay motionless on the ground, Triple H pulled down his trousers as Shawn pushed his face up Triple H's ass!

Swiftly, the door opened, as five rather flustered appearing men barged their way into McMahon's former offices.

"Ewww!" they all exclaimed, seeing Triple H's backside

"Hey, it's a lot better than Vince's!" the King of Kings responded.

"So, you're all safe?" Kurt inquired.

"And not dead?" Orton stupidly asked.

"Nope. We're all here, safe and well. Well, other than Vince!" Shawn grinned, releasing McMahon from his best friends behind.

"There's one thing I still don't get." Batista began "Why did Vince impose Martial Law?"

"Because he knew that he had lost his faculties," Hall answered "He knew it was a matter of time before he'd have to hand the company over to you and Stephanie. So, he decided to declare Martial Law to try and save his broken old ass!"

"Bizarre." Undertaker muttered.

"Shawn?"

"What is it Kevin?"

"I still love you!" the seven footer replied.

"Hunter, do the honours!" Shawn begged as a Pedigree was delivered to Big Daddy not so Cool!

I bet you're wondering what happened next, huh? Well, lets just say this. D Generation X are completely ruling the WWE. Either you are with them or against them and if you don't like the way they running the show, they've got two wordsfor ya: SUCK IT!

Oh and just in case any of you do give a damn about Vince - which I seriously doubt -he's been sent as part of a NASA programme to Venus. He may never return. Thankfully.

* * *

Thanks for reading and reviewing, hope you've like the final chapter! I do intend on writing some more comedy like this within the next few months so watch this space! Thanks for all of your support, it means a lot to me! 


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